Sunday School Rules
by Mr. Fishy
Summary: When I'm with her, it doesn't feel bad or wicked it feels heavenly.
1. Prolog

**Author's Note: **I know I know I've got _Paper Cuts _to finish. You should just crucify me. Really, **I've been a bad writer and friend** to you all. I have a problem and I will admit it, I have ADD sometimes when it comes to my stories, but this idea was just _screaming_ at me. Fellow writing comrades I'm sure you understand.

**DISCLAMIER: **Don't sue me! I own nothing! If you sue all you will get is a large room with many books and crumbled papers… and yes possibly a week old peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

_**WARNING: **_This piece of work contains homosexuality if you are offend by this please pass it by. I'm in no mood to listen to whiny closed minded people. Also, it contains various religious statements and beliefs.

_**Inspiration: **_True conversations with true tears, past e-mails of a new friend, and the song _I Can't Take My Eyes Off Of You_ by Melanie Doane.

_**Sunday School Rules: **_"_Unable are the loved to die, for love is immortality_" –Emily Dickinson (The Lady in White- the woman I' am most likely to become, minus all the wicked poetry.)

…

**-Prolog-**

_Lilly, _

_I saw your photograph in the paper today. You can just imagine my surprise. There I was drinking a nice warm cup of tea while half studying for my English exam and half flipping through the Lifestyles section and BAM! There was your photo. It was beautiful, if I'm allowed to say so. _

_It's funny, I've been thinking about you all day. I miss you. Isn't that silly? All these years and your face still lingers in my mind. But I miss you, oh, I miss you. I miss your hands, I yearn for them. You had such lovely ha-_

I tear out the paper from my notebook crumble it and throw it down. This whole thing is ridiculous, preposterous nonsense. I need to be studying for my exams. I need to be calling my dad and telling him I'm doing '_just great_.'

I rub my temples slowly. My roommate, Annie, is gone for the evening, out with her boyfriend. The campus is mostly barren, what with finals wrapping up and Graduation just around the corner. I whirl around in my office chair with the wheels on the bottom. I'm acting so out of character.

I should stop reading the paper if I'm going to be seeing her name in it. I might as well quit college and buy a small cottage out in the middle of the woods and be alone forever and a day. What is wrong with me?

I glance around the cramped room, how the movers ever fit two beds in here will forever be contemplated in the very back of my mind. Annie's side of the room is messy, I can't stand it. She's like a man, clothes on the ground, books and papers staked together in the most unorganized way.

And then there's my side. Clean, neat, everything has its place. My bed is made, the covers perfectly even on each side and my pillows resting dead center.

My desk light is burning into my eyes. My notes from English class are all out and my flashcards are ready to be study, so why can't I bring myself to work? The newspaper is lying slightly crinkled on my bed the page with her name and picture open, mocking me. Yes, that's exactly what it is doing- mocking.

This is absurd, I was doing fine. I was getting by! I was just learning to breathe again without the heart wrenching realization that it's over. My hand goes to the golden cross locket hanging heavy over my chest. I fiddle with the object as my eyes dart from fresh white paper to the newspaper.

Sighing in a defeated manner I slip the cap off my black pen and begin writing again.

_Lilly,_

_I was fumbling through the paper this morning and guess what I saw, you. As you can imagine it was a rather shocking surprise. I guess you did it, huh? The article says you're going to be having a gallery showing off all your photography next week. Congratulations, I knew you could do it. _

_It's funny, the exact moment I read your name everything came washing over me. Acting much like a large tidal wave, and it hurt. Everything in me these days hurts. Do you remember the first time we met? You were hanging upside down. Your golden hair cascading down like thick rays of sunlight, your eyes were closed as you laughed. It was stunning. _

_I'm sorry to randomly disrupt your life by writing this. But, oh Lilly, I miss you so mu-_

I whip the paper from the desk and tear it to shreds. Madness! Oh why does it have to be so hard? I put my head in my hands and let one solitary whimper escape my mouth. Lillian Truscott will be the death of me, no doubt about it.

……

**Author's Note: **A little rough around the edges that I will admit. So basically it's the same deal as _Paper Cuts_ we're living in another universe so I'm cutting things out and putting new things in (because that's so much more fun then sticking with the rules.) I'm not sure how this will go. I'm just rolling with the punches on this one. My outline is still a little hazy but hopefully in time all will be fine.

If the mood strikes you (hopefully not with lightening) then please by all means leave your thoughts.


	2. The Beginning

I' am not a perfect person. I know this and have accepted it with open arms; I embrace the flaws I hold inside- buried deep within my self conscious. And right now, riding in the back seat of my father's old station wagon, I know the feeling that rages through my mind.

I'm livid. Well, I suppose that's over doing it a tad. I'm slightly peeved at my current situation. I'm not very adventures; I tend to stray away from change- Partly because it scares the crap out of me.

So it was a rather tremendous surprise that my father decided to up root our perfectly rooted and settled family from Nashville, Tennessee to Los Angles, California. He's a strange man, my father, but I love him and I know that everything will work out, eventually.

I suppose I should be tremendously proud of him. He stood up for what he firmly believes in. Working as the assistant pastor at our Southern Baptist church was a tough job, especially under Pastor Edwards.

My dad is a soft spoken man and doesn't think people should have the Bible shoved down their throat. He doesn't believe in standing high and mighty at the pulpit screaming out at all the "hell bound sinners" as Pastor Edwards once roared, spit flying and forehead drenched with sweat.

And that was the last straw, my dad quit. The next day in the newspaper there was an article about a woman by the name of Sandra Truscott who brought together her community and together rose over 10,000 dollars to send to a children's hospital. My dad was so moved at her strong will and faith.

The newspaper had another page devoted to this woman and all her achievements. It spoke of her husband Greg and daughter Lillian Truscott and how they work at homeless shelters and soup kitchens, it was unreal at how giving they sounded. My father was speechless, but what sparked the idea for the move was a tiny section at the bottom where Mrs. Truscott reflected on the loss of their beloved assistant pastor Robert Crane; and how they were still searching for another "pure hearted soul" to fill the place.

My dad prayed over this for many weeks until one morning, as I sat with my mom and brother Jackson at the table, he declared that it was time to spread the word and branch out. He made the arrangements and spoke with the church. My dad made many trips down to Los Angles, after they gleefully accepted him for the job, to find a house.

I've only seen the new house twice, once from the photos my dad took his first time down and the next over winter break of my junior year when the family drove out there to sign the papers for purchase.

I feel bad for not being as excited as the rest of the family about the move. It's not like I was leaving too many friends behind. Honestly, I've only had one friend… although I'd call her more of a well known acquaintance. She liked hanging out with me on Sunday and Wednesday nights at church but other then copying off my paper in English class, she hardly spoke to me.

Actually, now reflecting on my life in Tennessee, I had no life at all. I always seemed to be held back by my bashful character. Which was never my fault to begin with; my disability always slapped me down.

Trying to find a more comfortable position I twist around in my seat. Jackson is bobbing his head to his CD player while my parents sit up front and laugh over the old Elton John song, "Bennie and the Jets." I smile at the people around me. I suppose I should be happy. My family is alive and well and my dad has a new job. Things will work out, I've got the entire summer ahead of me before senior year starts up. It's time I find who I'm supposed to be and do in this world.

I'm ready.

"We're here!" My dad cheers pulling into the driveway, "Isn't it great?"

My mom nods as she stretches, "It's beautiful, and look a view of the beach now that's something I could get use to." The two of them smile and share a quick kiss before my dad pops the trunk and we being to unload.

"The moving trucks should be here soon." My dad reports as he sets down a box in our new living room.

I take a look around, it's not bad just… different. The house is very open, many windows line the walls and the ceiling is nice and high.

"So, what'd you think, Miles?" My dad asks throwing an arm around my shoulders.

"I-I …l-l-like it." I say slowly pronouncing the words with great care. My dad kisses my head and smiles down at me.

"You'll see bud; this is going to be a great change for us. A brand new start." He squeezes me tightly before running off to help Jackson with the boxes. I watch my mom wave in the movers as they begin to take out the kitchen wear from the trucks. I take another look around and sigh. A new start…

……

**Author's Note: **Very short, but in the future I'm planning on much lengthier chapters. _Paper Cuts_ is still going, have no fear, I just felt like talking in Miley's voice today. Also, if you're the kind of person who likes themes in their stories, the theme was the first sentence- goes for everyone. If the feeling suddenly evokes within you- please do leave your thoughts. (Also, I suppose now everyone understands the title, correct?)

_**haha169-**_No, it is not Oliver. Please do read my author's note. Thank-you.


	3. The Impression

I'm shaving my legs for the first time in the new house in the new bathroom tub. I laver up my right leg and run a freshly opened green razor up my leg, loving the sound it makes. The new bathroom is white. A frosted window is set dead center in the wall. As I shave I try and decide if I like this new space or not.

It's… quant. A nice open room, but once my mother's water color pictures are nailed to the wall it'll look more finished. I rinse and run my whole hand over my legs and smile- so smooth, like silk. Grabbing a yellow towel from the rack I dry off.

The odd part is the only thing I will truly miss about my old home is my garden. It sat neatly beside the back window so every morning I could watch it catch the sun's light. Fumbling now through a box to find my cotton blue dress I sigh and toss my hair back so I can see.

We're going to see the town today. The church included, my dad can't hold in his excitement. It's good to see him this way. He's got the old guitar out and singing hymns in the kitchen, I can hear him and mom belting out _Amazing Grace_.

I slip into the dress with ease; it's an old favorite of mine. I look at myself in the mirror while I button it up. My hair is a little curlier then it usually is. I leave one button undone at the very top and fluff my frizzy hair.

The house is growing on me, slowly but I'm sure I'll learn to love it. I miss the south for many reasons. The weather mostly, I liked having all the seasons. I miss the dirt, when I walk outside its just sand. I make a quick mental note to find a good clean grassy area some time this summer.

I watch myself in the mirror and tilt my head and sigh. I twirl around my bare feet rubbing against the bathroom tile roughly. I take a seat on the closed toilet lid. I bow my hand slightly and breathe heavily.

'God? Hey. Thanks again for giving my dad a job. I'm sure he'll love it and I know Jackson will do great in college. He's bright; it's buried in there somewhere. Oh, look over mom, she's just putting up a strong front, but I know she's sad about leaving her old job. I hope she finds something here, something right for her

…I know we haven't been talking regularly… like we used too. I'm sorry. It's just moving and everything- it happened _so _fast. But I know you have it all planned. But do you think… can you let me find someone? I would really like a friend. I've never had anyone… is that too selfish? Anyway, thank-you, for loving me and caring for me.'

Taking another deep breath I raise my head and look around. This bathroom is so different, everything is different. But it will be good for me, it will.

Getting up I walk with a determined smile into the kitchen. Jackson is digging through the cereal box, for the toy, I'm sure. Dad has put away the guitar and is buttering his toast.

"Hey baby." My mom says putting away a few dishes into the cabinet.  
Waving to her I take a seat. My dad smiles at me and pats my shoulder. "Sleep okay there bud?" He asks.

I nod and take a sip of a glass of orange juice on the table. I catch my mother's eye she frowns. "Say something, baby." She says looking sad. "How are you this mornin'?"

Biting down hard my mind whirls by. How am I?

Nervous!

Scared!

Where to begin?

"I-I'm f-f-" Slamming my hands on the table I grunt in frustration. My dad rubs my back in comfort.

"Susan," My dad whispers, the kitchen is quiet. Jackson has stopped searching for his toy and is now staring intently at his cereal bowl. "Let's not spoil the day, okay?"

My mother closes the cabinet door gently and nods. "But I'm already looking for a new speech therapist, Miley. I think you'll like this one." My mom walks around the counter and puts her arms around me, "It'll be alright, I just want to help."

I know she does, they all do. I just wish I was able to tell them how much it means to me, how much I love them. And how thankful I' am for all the hours my mom and dad spent sitting and practicing with me. All those days I came home in tears from the pain of not being able to speak like everyone else.

Calming down I wipe my eyes and turn to the window, it's such a beautiful day. The sun is out and the air is hot but the wind is cool, perfect summer weather. "Well come on! Let's see this town!" My dad cheers lightening the mood.

I love both my parents, but I've always been just a tad closer to my dad. The same goes for Jackson and mom. I can remember countless summer days back in Tennessee when I was little driving down the road with my dad in his old pick-up truck. We would roll the windows all the way down and turn the radio up loud.

Singing was the only way I could be normal. My voice never once slipped up while belting out a song. With the wind taking up my hair and my father's solid and thick laugh, nothing could touch me. Some days I can close my eyes and still feel the southern sun burning hot on my cheeks, back when I was just a little girl.

The streets are so busy. Now, I know this is to be expected in such a fast paced city but still. Every corner every turn there's cars, people, and dogs all moving and running with the beat of the day. The sun is blazing bright and stings my eyes as I gaze out the window of the car. I see a group rollerblading down the sidewalk, a happy family of three laughing and window shopping. There's so much commotion, so much to see, hear and taste it's all so over whelming.

Back home in Tennessee we lived in the smaller county, far from town where your neighbor was at least three to four miles away. I liked living in the country where I could escape to the woods, or lounge in the rolling hills barefoot. But here, it's loud and fast. Sitting back in my seat I hear car horns beep and distant chatter of strangers- yelling, laughing.

"We're here!" My dad cheers parking and popping the car door open. I step out and get a good look. The church is a medium size and a good rich brown. There are rows of flowers growing neatly along the sides, I wonder if I could help care for them? We walk the sidewalk up to the two front doors.

My dad holds the door open for my mom and they share a smile. As soon as I enter the building there's a blast of cool air on my face. Stepping aside I rub my arms and shiver.

"Welcome!" A man with brown hair and a sunburned face comes sprinting over with a friendly smile and hand wave. "Hello Stewart family! Ah, Robby it's great to see you again!"

My dad and the man shake hands and pat each other's shoulders, a very manly man welcome. "You too, Reverend Morrow." My dad grins, "This is my wife Susan, son Jackson and little girl Miley."

"Wonderful!" Reverend Morrow says clapping his hands, "I can't wait to meet you all! The church has been buzzing about with the news of you guys joining our community. My wife, Patricia, should be around here somewhere she's been just dying to meet your wife and daughter." Reverend Morrow looks to me.

Nervously I fiddle with my now clammy hands. My mother puts her arm around me, "Well, we are too." My mom says squeezing me close to her.

"Reverend Morrow?"

"Call me Harry, please Robby."

"Harry? I've been meaning to meet the Truscott clan; do you know where they are?" My dad asks.

"Aw, you just missed Greg and Sandra they were in here this morning but don't worry come Sunday you'll see them running around, oh, and there daughter Lilly, she's your age Miley." He replies.

My dad is soon pulled away from us into Reverend Morrow's office so they can discuss the up coming Sunday. My mother and Jackson walk off to discover more of the church and I search for the music room.

It's a two story building, the church; the first floor is the worship room, adult classes, and childcare. The second floor belongs to the teens called the youth room. The halls have a comforting silence to them. Walking slowly I lazily run my hand along the wall as I go. I like the way this place smells, like laundry detergent.

For the very first time since we moved, I'm enjoying myself. I find the music room on accident. The door is open and I peek in shyly, finding a grand piano dressed in classic black in the corner of the room. Seeing as no one is around I slide up to the beautiful instrument and take a seat on the bench.

Perching my hands above the ivory keys I take in a breath and run up one of my older scales, fast then slow. As I finish I find music sheets stacked on the top of the piano written in black pen. The notes are messily scribbled onto the page but I can read them well enough. Spreading them out, I start playing. The song is good, challenging and well composed.

I almost forgot how wonderful this feels, playing. After selling my old piano I've felt deprived of fine art. But it had to be done, after my dad quit money was tight and my mother's watercolor paintings don't exactly sell that well.

But here, ah, this is how life should always be, my fingers at their best dancing up and down the keys.

"You're good."

Jumping up in fright my hand flings to my chest, my heart pounding. A tall red haired woman is standing in the doorway smiling.

"You must be Miley, I'm Patricia Morrow." She holds out her hand. I clam my nervous which are still on edge. "Sorry I scared you honey." She rubs my back and smiles; it's a nice smile, reassuring and kind.

I shake my head and swallow hard. "I-It's o-o-ok-aay." I blush, my face heats up as realization washes over Mrs. Morrow's face. I hate this.

"Have you been playing long?" She asks, avoiding the obvious.

I nod.

"You know that piece you were playing? Lily Truscott wrote it. Have you met her yet?"

I shake my head.

"Oh, well you will soon, she's a darling girl, strange, but just darling."

I think I like Mrs. Morrow, she talks a lot- filling in the spaces so I don't have to. She smiles at me as I stack the papers back up in a neat pile.

"I met your mom, she's a great lady. Say, you two should come to our meet and greet lunch next week! I'm hosting it along with a few other ladies from the church. We have it every month just to catch up, maybe flip through the good word."

We walk out of the classroom, Mrs. Morrow talking and talking as I walk beside her just trying to breath and take it in. It's just really hit me, all the people I'm going to have to meet and worse talk too. Suddenly my heart jumps and hands clench together, I'm not ready.

My mother literary has to drag my dad away from the church. We were supposed to be out for lunch two hours ago. I can hear Jackson's stomach growling as I buckle my seatbelt. I giggle and he rolls his eyes at me, but he does so with a smile.

The move hasn't affected my older brother all that much. He was accepted to the local university last year and after summer he'll be off working towards his education degree; he wants to teach U.S History. Who knew my goofy brother would want to do something so profound?

The car comes to a halt. We arrive at a small café with outside seating. The restaurant is quant and painted a dark red. The bell dings as we walk inside; I suddenly feel very foreign and out of place.

We take a seat at the booth next to the great bay window. Across from the restaurant is a small park. Squinting my eyes against the harsh blazing sun I see a group of teens. They are circled around a girl who is hanging upside down off the monkey bars. What a dangerous stunt to pull. Her mouth is open and her eyes are closed. She seems to be laughing. There should be nothing funny about it. What if she fell? How can everyone just stand back without worry?

Her hair is long and hanging down in messy tangles. Her face is flushed, and her shirt rides up reveling much of her stomach. She is not phased at this she just swings up and around- jumping off her upside down position. I shake my head.

"Miles?"

I whip my head around slapping my dad's face with my hair. He smiles as I frown shyly in apology.

"See anything you like?" He asks gesturing to the menu. I take the plastic red colored menu in my hands and shrug. My mother says something about just ordering a giant pizza and I nod in approval as does the rest of the family.

I hear the bell on the glass door chime as it opens and a large group of laughing teens come stomping through. The girl who was dangling from the monkey bars is among them.

She strides with a confident flare to the front counter and shakes hands with the owner of the small restaurant.

"Lilly!" The manger smiles wrapping his arms around her, "It's so good to see you!"

She whispers something in the older man's ear and he chuckles and slaps her back good naturedly.

"I'll see what I can do!" He winks walking to the kitchen.

"Yo! Truscott!" A tall gawky boy with shaggy brown hair shouts from across the room. The girl's head turns and she rolls her eyes at the boy.

"Chill Oliver, lunch is on me." She grins skipping over to their table with a satisfied glint in her blue eyes.

Dumbfounded, I gawk at them. That is Lillian Truscott? The giving and prized daughter of Sandra Truscott. This is not what I was expecting, not that there is anything wrong with her it's just…

She's wearing black high top converse shoes, blue jeans with a self made hole in the knee area, and a light blue t-shirt with the fish symbol printed in the middle.

I watch her intently even after the food arrives. My eyes stayed glued to her. That girl, she wrote the beautiful piano piece? She is the well adored asset to the church? I watch her throw her head back and laugh wildly at something the brown haired boy said. The group of teens seems to be having a pleasant day, all with sunburned faces and loose t-shirts and jeans. I will never fit in here. Bowing my head I give out a sigh and turn back to the window to watch the people go about their daily routines.

……

**Author's Note: **So what'd you think? Please be honest and as always and forever leave your thoughts. (Psssst- Happy Valentine's Day, I do dislike this day but I do know of a certain someone who enjoys the flowers.)


	4. The Rescue

Its early morning, I'm lying in bed

Its early morning, I'm lying in bed. Dawn has yet to raise its sleepy head and yawn and stretch its golden rays to light the world. The sky is a dark blue, I watch from my window tangled in the bed sheets.

Turning around I sink back into the bed. Sighing heavily I check the clock- 4:03 a.m. why am I so awake? I close my eyes and try to focus on sleeping. Hot, I'm hot; kicking off the covers I groan and wiggle around on my twin size bed. I hear Jackson snoring in the room down the hall.

Forget it.

I get up, pull my hair back into a pony tail and slide my feet out and onto the hardwood. The house is silent, not like the one back home. The old house, the good one, made noises in the night. The floor creaked, the dishwasher was always rinsing, and the washing machine was always turning.

I grab a pair of shorts and slip into them; next I pick up Jackson's ratty hockey sweatshirt and slowly sneak down the stairs. My sneakers are shoved in the corner of the dining room I pick them up and tie the laces good and tight.

The door opens easily with a quiet hiss. The morning air is good, ocean fresh. The beach looks lonely from here. Starting with a light jog I make my way to its side. The ocean's waves are rolling in and out lazily. The moon is fading as the daylight comes into play. I don't need any music, just the sound of my breathing and the wave's crash.

My pace is sluggish with my feet sinking into the sand but I keep going. With my head down and arms pumping I plow through the burning sensation in my thighs. My last run was what, months ago? I can't remember. But, oh, this air on my face feels so good. Not humid like back home, but strong and clean- salt water wind will take getting use too but I'll manage.

My legs give out and I tumble over into the grainy sand. My chest is heaving, my lungs are wheezing, but I feel good, tired, sweaty and refreshed. A morning jog, that's all it takes. I know the sand will be death to wash out of my hair but it's worth it. I roll over and laugh smelling the earth, smelling the sky. My arms spread apart borrowing into the sand.

"T-Th-Thanks." I whisper to the sky still out of breath.

"Babe? Where were you this mornin'? I went to check up on you but you weren't there." My mother asks taking a seat and digging into her pancakes. My dad and Jackson have already gone, off to the church to help in whatever they can.

"I w-was out f-for a r-ru-run." I say stirring my chocolate milk. My mother smiles and nods.

"I'm glad, you haven't been running, and the beach is probably beautiful at sunrise… humm… you think that'd make a good painting?"

I nod fiercely, "Ye-Yes."

"I think I'll do that… hey what do ya have planned for today? I was thinkin' maybe you and I could meet up with Mrs. Truscott and her daughter; Mrs. Truscott called yesterday a little after you went to bed. I think you and Lillian would be great friends. What do you say, sweetie?"

I weight my options; I really don't think Lillian and I would make '_great friends_.' I'm sure she's a lovely girl but… just not for me. She seems loud, unruly, and unwilling to be patient with me.

"I th-think I-I'll ju-just go t-to th-the library." I smile finishing up my breakfast and standing.

"Oh," My mother's face bleeds disappointment, "Alright, Miley, but I really think you should get out more… meet people. But its okay, I understand, hey I'll give you a lift to the library. I saw it yesterday during our little tour."

The library smells fresh, like orange disinfectant. It's beautiful in an old Gothic style way. High elaborate ceilings take my breath away and the sun streaming through the numerous windows burn my eyes, but I greet it well. I take in this new beauty with great pleasure- bookcases made of fine cherry wood are sculpted and built into the walls, it makes my head dizzy and mouth water with what treasures these new uncharted shelves might hold for me.

My mother leaves me but not before informing to me to call every so often to check in. She asks when I would like to be picked up; I have the urge to say never, I say late afternoon. We wave goodbye and then I begin my hunt. Desire for a good book burns deep within me. It has been far too long since I've run my hands over a thin cream page, and I crave it.

There are three floors to the library- children books are on the bottom floor, young adult/adult second, and non-fiction on the third floor. I take the stairs, sliding my hand on the railing as I walk up the twisting staircase. I feel like I've been transported into another world. How could a library so grand possibly exist outside my imagination?

I first visit old friends- Fitzgerald, Salinger, Hemingway, and Steinbeck… they smile up at me snuggled warm and safe in their selves of polished wood. For a moment, I wish I was a book. This thought has crossed me many times. To be a book, yes, to remain unchanged- beginning, middle and end- to bring joy to those who truly understand my significance.

I slide my hands over the spins of the books, just to feel their knowledge tingle my fingertips. I let myself giggle softly. Oh, how childish I feel, how giddy. I pick out a novel that seems to suit me for the moment (White Ghost Girls by Alice Greenway). I find a secluded corner to nest myself, right next to the window that over looks to the busy city. Perfect, perfect.

The chair I've settled myself in is lush and plush, molding to my form as I slip out of my sandals and curl into myself like a cat. The library vibrates and hums into motion, but slowly. People speak in hushed tones; shoes hiss over the carpet and the people perched at the computers type with light fingertips (click, click, click- feather lightness.)

I'm so absorbed in the atmosphere, in my novel that I never saw it coming, "Hey…" A boy roughly my age leans against the wall in front of me. He is slouching with his hands in his pockets, black hair askew and eyes dim and lazy.

I nod, face flushed with the unaccepted attention, I grip the book's edges.

"I'm Walt." He smiles, mouth open straight white teeth glittering.

"Mum-Hum."

He chuckles, looking down at his shoes as he pulls himself up to a standing position. "You go to Seaview High?" He asks bending in close to me, his hands resting on the armrests of the chair. I feel my throat close up, he is too close. I smell his breath on my face.

"Not much of a talker? That's okay…" Walt grins; I don't like his smile, its fake too perfected.

"Walt!" Another boy jogs over, blond hair bouncing with his large movements, "Come on man, I gotta find that book for class!"

Walt's friend sees us and smiles coyly. "Aw, so that's why you ditched me." He slithers closer, eyes closing in on me.

Walt pulls his body back, away from me and I let out a large breath. "This girl," Walt points to me, "Is playing hard to get."

"Well," His friend laughs, "That's a shocker, might do you some good to get turned down for once."

Walt gears his attention back to me, "Come on, at least tell me your name?"

I shake my head and get up quickly, my perfect mood suddenly fallen flat. I try to walk by them but Walt's friend stops me with a gentle hand to my shoulder.

"Say, girl, cut my buddy some slack?" He offers with a shrug and laugh.

My mouth is dry, "L-le-leave m-me a-"

"What?" Walt bursts into a fit of laughter.

"Yeah, we c-ca-can't un-understand –y-you!" Walt's friend mocks slapping his buddy on the back as they chuckle amongst themselves, "Dude, you sure do know how to pick them!"

Flustered, my palms begin to sweat as my pride is shredded. I turn to run, but I can still hear them.

"W-Wait! C-Co-Come b-ba-back!" Walt calls after me.

I want to shout at them, I want to stomp my foot, throw my book or-

"Stop it!"

The boys turn to see a young girl standing close to me, as I try to hide in the stacks. Her blond hair is pulled into a loose braid as she walks over to them with fierce glaring eyes.

"Lilly?" Walt asks wiping his eyes, "What'd you want?"

She puffs out her chest and stands up to them, although they are much taller she proves victorious as she stares them down.

"Don't ever," She beings hotly, "Belittle someone the way you just did, you got me Walt? Danny?" She turns her head to each of them, "You two jerks just back off, got it?"

I put my head down and feel my cheeks sting with an unpleasant heat. I hold my book to my chest and try to hold in this thick emotion of embarrassment inside.

When I return my head to the scene I notice the boys are walking away and the girl is walking to me. I avert my eyes from hers as she gets closer.

"Hey," She speaks in a softer tone, very neutering, "Are you alright?"

My eyes become blurry as they fill with prickling tears. Why did I think it would be different here? People are mean anywhere and everywhere.

I shake my head 'no' and suck in a shaky breath. She sighs and places a warm hand to my shoulder. "Those guys are horrible, I know, I go to school with them… you're Miley, right?"

I watch her with suspicious eyes, still holding the book pressed against my chest as I try to regain my composer. I nod to satisfy her question and she smiles a toothy grin, "Yeah, that's what I thought…" She takes her hand off my shoulder, "You're mom said you'd be here. I'm guessing you like to read?" She asks me this question with a nervous smile and slouching position- hands in her front pockets and back hunched forward trying to meet my bashful gaze.

I nod again, still too timid to actually open my mouth to speak, still rather shocked at how destroyed my afternoon is now. All I wanted was a quiet day, away from the public and all else loud and LA. And I most definitely did not want the company of Lillian Truscott, although, I' am much obliged at her gestures in terms of rescuing me, but what do I say now?

"It's good, that you like to read… a lot of kids don't…" Lillian is failing miserably at starting a conversation with me, and I'm not helping- standing stiff. She scratches behind her neck and sighs, "Hey, would you like to meet my friend, Oliver? He's been wanting to meet you…"

Another person! I'm reeling, my body begins to sweat with the idea of having to speak to her friends, having their attention on me as I stumble over every answer, I would be humiliated. Looking to Lillian I clear my throat and softly reply, "I d-don't th-think s-s-so."

She shrugs, "Okay, then… well, I'll see you on Sunday then, alright?"

I give another nod of my head and she slowly turns and begins to walk away, I breathe out in relief. As I start to retreat back to my chair I notice, she looks back to me. Lillian, briefly, looks behind her shoulder as she is approaching the stairs and stares at me.

………**..**

**Author's Note: **I hope you don't mind, the urge to start writing this story again came to me this morning. If you suddenly find yourself in the mood to leave your thoughts on this chapter then please do, no pressure.


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